I’d resisted last night, but tonight I felt so worked up. It was already midnight and I had enough energy coursing through me to run a marathon. The door between our rooms was only cracked open an inch. And Dom might not even be in his bedroom. I hadn’t heard him come in. He was probably downstairs. If I kept super quiet he’d never know. It would be just me and my hand in the pitch darkness.
I hadn’t dressed again after my bath, feeling so warm and good I’d just slipped between the sheets. Completely naked, I snuck my hand down, parting my thighs so I could find my sweet spot. I bit my lip and turned my face to the side, closing my eyes and reminding myself to be quiet, keep quiet even though it felt so good. Being around Dom, in such close quarters with him for the past few days had me wound up. He was so hard and rough, his voice, even the way he walked was assertive, taking charge.
The slickness grew around my fingers as I stroked, thinking about his arms, so corded and powerful. What would he do if I went up and touched him? What if tonight, instead of letting him send me away, I’d walked up to him at the sink? I could have pressed my body against his and wrapped my arms around his chest. Would he have pushed me away? Or would he have spun around, pressing me against the kitchen island, pinning me there with a searing kiss?
Wet enough now, I slid a finger up inside, gently fucking myself, remembering how he’d done that years ago. I wanted him to do it to me again. I wanted him to do it just like he’d done to me then, first one, then two, then three fingers stretching me, forcing me to open for him, pushing into me deep until I panted and cried out for him, coming and coming on his fingers.
I almost stifled my moan as I started to come. Almost. But the fantasy was so hot and felt so real. I could almost feel his hands on me, his fingers deep in my pussy, and I cried out in pleasure. As soon as I did it, I turned my head into my pillow, climaxing on my fingers and muffling my moans.
Panting, my heart beating fast, even as I reveled in my post-orgasmic glow, I worried. Had he heard me? I lay there, wondering. He might be downstairs. But what if he’d headed into his bedroom while I was taking my bath?
Then I heard it. In the room next to mine, I heard the sound of his body shift on his bed, the rustle and shift of mattress and sheets. If I could hear that, then he’d definitely just heard me come.
14
Dom
Was she trying to kill me? First, walking downstairs in just my T-shirt. What a way to wake up, seeing her bending over into the fridge, my cotton shirt stretched over her perfect ass. Teasing, it ended right after the best part started, just at the beginning of her rounded cheeks as she reached into the fridge to get something.
I’d nearly pounced on her, grabbed her and bent her over the kitchen island. I could have given her a sound spanking for being such a bad girl, wearing just my T-shirt down into the kitchen and giving me a raging hard-on. First, I’d start with her panties on. Then I’d take them off.
But I hadn’t. I’d growled something at her about needing to wear more clothes and taken me and my painfully hard wood out of the kitchen. Then she’d started prancing around in tight yoga pants and a form-fitting top leaving nothing to the imagination. After she’d stood and watched me do pull-ups in the exercise room I could see her nipples pressing through.
She’d teased me about doing a fourth workout. I’d need it if I was going to have to keep sharing a house with her. Either that or a fucking horse tranquilizer to knock myself out.
I was trying to do the right thing. Her brother had asked me, as a trusted friend and someone he still thought of as a member of the family, to watch over Gigi. Keep her safe. That did not mean fucking her like an animal over and over while I had her trapped here with no one to call for help. No matter how tempting that sounded.
She’d been so pretty and sweet tonight, and that dinner she’d made had been fucking delicious. I’d had to stop myself from groaning as I ate. Man had I wanted to polish off that bottle of wine. But I knew what lay at the bottom of it. Nothing but relaxed inhibitions and I’d have her on my lap so fucking fast she wouldn’t know what had happened to her.
I didn’t know anything about her now. She might have a boyfriend. I hadn’t seen her with anyone at the party the other night, and Colt hadn’t mentioned anyone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a Taylor Weatherford Winton the third pacing the floor of his mansion over her back in New York. The thought made me seethe in jealousy, but that was just the monster in me rearing its ugly head. I’d be a selfish bastard to want her to have stayed single all these years.
But the thought of that virgin pussy four years ago, her writhing against me, begging for me to take her? That had kept me up countless nights, pumping and spilling my seed on my hands as I pictured filling her. Who had she given it to? That thought had kept me up countless nights, too, torturing myself. Probably some rich college kid, the quarterback or fraternity president. He’d probably bragged about it to the rest of the boys. I wanted to smash his face in or rip his lungs out, but then I’d have to remind myself that I’d left. I’d disappeared for years, without a trace, for her own good.
Now Colt just had to wrap this shit up quick. Tomorrow I’d call him and see what kind of progress he was making. Maybe I’d tell him to double whatever he was offering. Those guys didn’t fuck around and we had to make sure nothing happened to Gigi. Either from them getting to her, or me getting to her first.
I cleaned everything I could in the kitchen, all the dishes, the pans, the countertops. It could be none more clean. I sat on the couch and surfed through TV channels, hundreds of them with nothing on. Then I’d finally given in and headed upstairs to bed.
Gigi was running a bath. Fuck me. The thought of her getting naked and slipping into warm water, maybe slick with bath oil. She’d get all relaxed and limber, maybe rubbing her legs with a cloth, maybe resting her head back, eyes closed, breasts lifting slightly up out of the water. It would feel so good she’d run a hand up, playfully caressing, feeling the sensation of the cool air on her sensitive tips.
Shit. I had to stop myself from thinking like that. I ducked into my bathroom—this house had about seven of them—and took a quick, cold shower. Not my first of the day. After I toweled off, I pulled on some shorts and climbed into bed. Sleep would come eventually.
Until something else came first. I kept the door ajar between our two rooms. It might be paranoid on my part, but I’d sleep better knowing I could hear anything that happened in her room. I wouldn’t ever be able to rest otherwise, wondering if someone had somehow slipped in and gotten to her in the middle of the night.
What I hadn’t counted on was being able to hear her come. I heard her climb into bed after her bath. Last night, she’d tossed and turned a bunch before falling asleep. I’d wondered if she was thinking about me the way I was about her. Tonight, she did more than think.
Things got quiet and still. But then, then I heard her voice cry out, the sweet soft cry of pleasure I’d played over and over from my memories. The sound of her calling out as she came, I knew it like I knew my own name.
My fists balled the sheets, my cock instantly swollen and at the ready. She was in there touching herself? That meant she was lying there right now with a slick, glistening pussy, her fingers all wet, maybe still down there riding the last waves. I could storm in there, turn on the light and demand to see it. She’d probably be startled and scared, but she’d do it. She’d spread her legs for me and show me her pretty pussy, glistening with her arousal. And then I could bury myself in her.
Fuck. I closed my eyes, willing myself to think about other things. Trucks. Training camp. Helmand, the province in Afghanistan where I’d been stationed most recently.
I shifted to my side, exercising all my will, all my restraint. I had a lot, more than most men, but even I had my breaking point. I might reach it soon.
* * *
§
* * *
The next day I called Colt. As I’d suspected, they were playing hardball.
He’d terminated Kavanaugh Investors’ deal with the Columbian coffee growers, and he’d offered the cartel money. That was fine, that was good, but they wanted more. Blood had been shed on their side, from the family. Kavanaugh family blood would be shed in retribution.
Colt still sounded convinced that he was handling it, but my doubts remained. I knew how these men thought, how they were wired. Gigi would not be safe until their system of justice had been satisfied. But that was unacceptable.
Sometimes a situation required you to make it more dangerous before it got safe. Sometimes you had to poke the poisonous snake, tease it and fuck with it enough until it came out of its hole and raised its head to strike. Then you’d just better pray you were there at the right time with a sharp meat cleaver to slice it clean off.
After Colt, I made a few more calls to guys I knew, the kinds who specialized in teasing a snake out of its hole and then dealing with the consequences. Most were ex-Special Forces guys who’d gone to work to protect Uncle Sam’s interest in other official and not-so-official capacities. They were the kinds of men with the intel and ability to infiltrate a Columbian cartel. They just needed the right incentive in the form of financial backing, and I figured I knew where to come up with that.
Around mid-day, I headed out to the pool to do some laps. Even in late December, the temperature had risen into the 70s. Gigi was sitting out poolside, thank God with a robe wrapped around her. I didn’t want to know what was underneath it. Except I did want to know.